Paper Trails
by mydoctortennant
Summary: Part of the One shot series: Gwen finds some letters that reveal more than she ever bargained for


**This is a prompt from the LJ Camelot_love Spring Fling and fits into the Currently Unnamed One Shot Series (order can be found on my profile) **

The pages of the paper were worn and aged, the ink smudged from being read over and over again. They'd been left for years now, tucked in a box in a corner of a room left to be forgotten by the world.

_Dearest Thomas,_

_I hear times are hard in Camelot. The winter seems harsher this year. My father struggles, but it is nothing compared to the stories I hear of Uther's kingdom._

_I fear that there is little I can do to help other than send you and Gwennie some supplies to help._

_How is our darling daughter? Tell me, is she beautiful?_

_Time is short, now I must go._

_I love you, Thomas, always._

_Isobel._

_My darling Isobel,_

_The news you hear is greatly exaggerated. The King has supplied us with anything we will need. We are warm and the fire keeps us alive. Food can be short, but is it not for everyone?_

_Do not worry about us, my love, we shall survive, I promise you._

_Little Gwen is more beautiful than ever. I took her with me to the audience with the King and his young son seemed most taken by her as she hid behind my leg. Still, one can dream. Love between them may not always be as impossible as our own love._

_I wish so much to hold you, my love, but I know that in times like these it is not proper. You can not marry a man beneath your station. One day, men and women will marry for love not for propriety._

_I shall love you always,_

_Tom_

She ran her fingers over the writing she hadn't seen for over a year now. The grief coursed through her, secrets that lay unknown for over two decades rediscovered because a boy came across a box.

_My Dearest Thomas,_

_I hear the young Prince is quite the sweet child. My father says the boy is well-mannered if a bit quiet. I wish he would allow me to accompany him on business, but he says our King would never allow him to take his family to Camelot._

_The winter here has grown worse, I fear that it is too cold for poor little Gwen. _

_Are you sure she is well?_

_Maybe one day soon I'll see you again. My skills with the sword are much depleted without your training. Father will not allow me to train with him or anybody else. If there is one thing I ask of you it is to train our girl with a sword._

_I apologise again for such a travesty being caused in your life. More than anything I wish that you could have stayed with me, a family of three. My father says he would have been disgraced, but I do not know why it would matter to him. He is not the one who wishes to marry you._

_My love with you always,_

_Isobel._

_My love,_

_Winter is worsening here also, but we have a collection of wood to last us through._

_The Prince is a sweet child, but yes he is quiet. Uther keeps him close._

_I promise you, Isobel, I will train Gwen. She will be the best fighter out of all the children, maybe even rival the Prince himself when he is old enough to fight._

_I wish every day that I could be with you still. I did not ever wish to bring you disgrace. Maybe one day the truth will out._

_Do not fear about it now, one day we will be together again,_

_Tom_

She remembered the days her father would have her in the street, or take her into the fields just outside the eastern side of the castle. Days when she was barely big enough to carry the smallest of swords.

_Dear Tom,_

_I regret to inform you that the Lady Isobel passed away this last week of a bad chest cold._

_Do not write here again. Keep the child away and never tell her of her lineage._

_I have returned all the letters in Isobel's collection. It would serve you well to burn them._

_Maggie Thornton_.

Gwen sat in her small home, the fire burning before her. The letters she had found, spanning several years of her very early childhood.

Tears had long since started falling down her cheeks. The sleeves of her dress were stained where she had wiped her face.

Arthur had found the box among the belongings he had cleared from the Forge, he'd offered them to her when he saw that it had contained, not wanting to invade on her family's privacy. Gwen had never mentioned her mother to him; she'd never known her, Tom bringing her up her whole life.

In a way Arthur felt like he was missing something by not knowing. It raised questions within him but it wasn't his place to ask. It was common knowledge that the Late Queen had died in childbirth, Gwen didn't need to ask. It wasn't a subject that Arthur felt comfortable to broach without being prompted first.

He entered, soot marks covering his forehead and hands; smudges of dirt and dust up his sleeves. He saw Gwen sat on the floor by the light of the fire, the flames reflected of the tear tracks that ran down her cheeks.

For a moment he panicked. He'd never dealt with any crying individual before. Morgana never openly cried in front of him, she was far too stubborn for that. This was Gwen, he'd seen her tears fall when her father had died; it was a rare moment to see her show a weakness.

Arthur walked across the small room and lowered himself to the floor behind her. He sat so she was sitting between his legs and wrapped his arms around her pulling her into his chest; letting her cry. Gwen buried her head into his shirt, clutching at the material, balling it in her fist. The last of the letters clutched in her hand.

Arthur gently rocked her, running a calming hand up and down her back.

"He never got to say good bye," she said into his shirt, "They took her away from him, and he never got to see good bye. They left me with him, and they sent him away. She didn't even get to name me."

"My father always told me that my mother died in childbirth, that he'd bought me to Camelot to escape the memories," Arthur ran his hand I guess he came to Camelot because he was forced out of his home and forced here," she wiped her eyes with her hand. She rested on Arthur's chest; he'd carried her over to her small bed and leant himself against the headboard, laying her head over his heart.

"She died when I was three. Her father was a knight over in Odin's kingdom. She turned to my father to teach her to fight, she didn't want to be helpless anymore, and they fell in love. My parent's weren't even married when my mother had me. Her father locked her away four six months and sent me with my father when I was born. Nameless and motherless.

"She died before she ever got to see us again. They didn't get their happy ending. Makes me think we'll never get ours."

Arthur kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek atop her curls.

"I made my mind up a long time ago and I'm _never _going to leave you," Arthur admitted, talking softly into her ear, even the usually comforting feeling of his heated breath on her skin wasn't enough to calm her.

"What if you don't have a choice?"

"_Nobody_ is going to take you from me," Arthur stated determinedly. In his heart and in his head he knew that he would go to the end of the world for her. His father could send her away but he little control over the future King, "I love you; nothing is going to change that."

"What if it isn't enough?"

"It will be. I'm here to stay," as he said it a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, trying so desperately to turn the situation around. He didn't like it when she wasn't the usual zesty Gwen he knew who could stump him with a word. He hated it more when she cried and he was helpless to stop it; like now.

"You can't know that," Gwen defeated tone was nearly too much to bare, right now all he could do was hold her until her tears passed.

"My father disowned me for my love; he's not going to take me from you," he raised his arm, drawing his hand up her arm, settling on her bicep and curling her body into his tighter, he wasn't letting her go easily, "Or you from me."


End file.
